Make a Wish
by GreyEyesGlaringAtShonda
Summary: He never knew she’d been pregnant...and he left before he might ever know. Being completely rewritten to fit new situations...aka, I think ABC is racist, PM me for details. NEW CHAPTER!
1. Chapter 1

Make A Wish 

Chapter One

By GreyEyesGlaringAtShonda (aka GreyEyedGirl)

Author's Note: This is a totally new version of _**Make A Wish**_. It now takes place after the season 3 finale…obviously, a long while. If you liked the old version better, fine, I'll change it back and start this story anew. However, the reason I decided to make this renovation is because of the ridiculous obscenity that occurred in the form of Isaiah's dismissal from ABC—with these changes, you can imagine this actually happening on the show (that is, if GA wasn't a sinking ship) during perhaps the last season of the series, and beyond…That way, there's a happy ending for BANG. I thought the fans of Burke and Cristina deserved some kind of happy ending and/or closure for them, and since that obviously wasn't going to happen with Shonda and ABC captaining the ship, I thought I'd do my part to commandeer. (All right, enough with the boat metaphors. Just one last aqua pun: _I'm fighting Shonda, and her insistence on 'burning down the house.'_)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new version, and leave your reviews below!

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Every morning she woke up to a sight that was bittersweet.

It was exactly as she'd pictured it, the rest of her life; fluttering her eyelids to curse the morning and being greeted with those eyes gazing back at her.

These eyes were smaller, though, and the hand brushing against hers barely managed to wrap around two of her fingers.

It wasn't him. She didn't have him.

She'd gotten her early-morning enthusiasm from her father; she must have. Cristina was _capable_ of rising early, was even willing to, but it was an excitement to get to her job, to play her part of the daytime Cristina, whilst awaiting her cue to take over as 'Mommy.'

She was only two. That was the only reason she tolerated that insipid second syllable.

"Thunny, M-Mommy! Play out today."

Cristina mumbled in an attempt to sound excited, all the while lifting the tiny body off of her customary morning jumping spot and carrying her into the kitchen.

"Birdie or tiger?" She inquired tiredly, settling her into her booster seat.

"Thammy!" Kayla squealed, reaching for the cupboard where she knew the cereal was kept.

"Sammy it is," Cristina answered, grabbing the bowls and the silverware. "Is he your favorite?"

"Col-or," Kayla nodded, smiling as her mother poured her milk.

Her cell went off just as she was fitting Kayla into her jacket, she swallowed a ' _damn _' as she rummaged for her phone.

"Yeah."

"Cristina?" The voice sounded timid, an uncharacteristic timbre in Callie Torres's speech.

"Mm."

"I know this is incredibly last minute and you probably won't be able to, but is there _any_ way you can cover me tonight? It's not the whole night, just until midnight, but I completely spaced out on Abby's recital, I thought it was _next_ week. And George's going, so I _have_ to go, or I look like the bad parent who can't tear myself away from work to spend time with my kid; meanwhile, he's Daddy of the Year."

Cristina lifted Kayla into her arms, locking the door behind her. "So _you're_ feeling guilty because you're the one with a real job. Seriously."

Callie let the remark slide. "It's ridiculous, she's going to be on stage for five minutes before the older kids come on, yet I'm supposed to sit there for three hours of 12-year-old boys wearing tutus."

Cristina laughed as she stepped into the elevator, pushing the button for the ground floor. "I can cover you, if you'll take Kayla."

She heard Callie's sigh of relief, and momentarily joined her in the feeling of victory over George. "Thank you, I owe you one. And don't worry, I'm just working the clinic, no big deal, you'll probably have a couple flu victims and then you can call it a night. I appreciate this, Cristina, I really do."

"No problem," Cristina said smoothly, trying to mask the annoyance in her voice from the daily struggle with the booster seat. Kayla giggled at the expression on her mother's face.

"Crap, I've got to go, I've got surgery in less than ten minutes. I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

Cristina spat out a response, sucking her thumb from where the clasp had pinched her.

"Ouch. Watch that clasp, Butterfingers."

Cristina grimaced into the phone and hung up.

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Preston Burke opened the door to his car hesitantly, stepping into the parking lot of Seattle Grace for the first time in three years. It looked the same; no new wings had been added, and all the trees that framed the building remained in their respectful positions. He recognized the faces of the doctors heading in around him, and saw more than one double-take as they turned to see if it was really him. He smiled politely, nodding to one of them, who broke out in a grin. He swung open the door to the hospital, then stopped, frozen.

If there was one person he would have picked to _not_ see him before he could talk to Cristina, it would have been her; the woman who didn't even care enough to protect her own secrets, who had flaunted around her adultery in the midst of his wedding preparations.

He shouldn't have come here. He should have called Richard and forced him to give him an answer, instead of simply setting out in solitude when he found some stranger living in their apartment.

Maybe she hadn't seen him. He turned quickly, trying to be casual.

"Dr. Burke!" Izzie Stevens stared at him in utter astonishment, standing by the elevator as she waited for it to open.

Maybe she had.

"Dr. Stevens," Burke tried to smile, feeling his heart beat out of his chest.

When he'd been away it hadn't felt real, it was like he'd imagined the world of Seattle Grace to have just faded away; now, however, he could feel the energy circulating around him, and he came alive again. She was here somewhere. He was going to see her.

"What are you doing here?" She sounded startled and a little afraid, as if she couldn't grasp him to be apart of her reality. He shuddered at the thought of what Cristina's reaction would be, if he got _that_ kind of expression from merely her friend.

A strange thought occurred to him. Did Stevens know the truth?

He dismissed this notion almost immediately. Cristina would never have allowed anyone to know the whole truth, of who had left whom. Meredith might know, but Stevens, certainly not. Cristina wouldn't have been able to handle that.

But, if the look she was giving him wasn't disdain or mistrust, what was it? Why was he gauging this kind of reaction from her?

Had something happened to someone?

Had something happened to _Cristina?_

In the middle of their awkward silence, she smiled suddenly, robotically, almost, and chirped, "So how've you been?" It could not have been plainer that the contraction she really meant was "where've."

"I'm fine. And you?"

"I'm great!" Izzie smiled sincerely, taking in his appearance after the pause.

Burke smiled and nodded, acknowledging her statement, then glanced at his watch. "You're here late. Are you about to leave?"

Izzie smiled, shaking her head. "Today's supposed to be my day off, but I just got paged, something to do with Shepherd. I'm assisting."

Burke nodded calmly, then stepped onto the elevator with Izzie as the doors slid open. "Have you—How's everyone else doing?"

"Meredith and Alex are fine. George's working somewhere else now." Izzie's voice eluded more, but Burke ignored the bait.

"And what about—" Burke cleared his throat. "How's Dr. Yang doing?"

Izzie's smile slipped slightly. "She's…good. She's better."

Burke fought to keep his face stoic. "I heard she moved. Is she still in Seattle?"

"Oh, yeah, they just moved into a different apartment—"

Burke interrupted her, his heart frozen and fading just as he'd imagined this world here to collapse in his absence. "They?" He couldn't breathe.

Izzie paused, flustered, but at that moment the elevator opened, and Izzie seized her opportunity to make a break for it. "Oh, sorry, got to go." She smiled back at Dr. Burke.

"Glad to see you back, Preston." She quickly existed the elevator, as Dr. Burke stood silently by himself, still very clearly in shock. 'They?' He mouthed to himself.

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"Mer! Mer, I need a favor."

Meredith looked up, seeing Cristina hurrying towards her down the hall, accompanied by, to her slight surprise, Kayla. "Hey, what's up?" She asked casually. She smiled down at the little girl next to her, wearing a purple t-shirt and dark jeans, dragging a matching jean jacket behind her, her hair pulled half-up with a purple scrunchie. "How are you, Kayla?"

Kayla looked up, and Meredith saw for the first time that she looked a little flushed. "She has the flu," Cristina explained, looking down at her worriedly, squeezing her hand. "She was supposed to go with Callie tonight, but she got really sick at daycare, and..."

"I puked on sthlides," Kayla interrupted.

Cristina brushed a strand of curly hair out of the small face, tucking it behind her ear. "I knew she'd get it eventually, everyone at Vella's seems to have caught it, but this is the worst possible time. I just got paged for a patient I had earlier, I'm scrubbing with Dr. Krulik in a few minutes. Is there any way—" Cristina paused, annoyed with herself for the _déjà vu_ from the situation of that morning. "I hate to ask, but is there any way you could watch her? Maybe sit with her in an on-call room so she can lay down, she's been napping for most of the day anyway; and I don't think she's up to sitting in the Gallery-"

Kayla looked up, frowning. "Watch operate." She looked back and forth from her mother to Meredith with sick brown eyes. Cristina sighed, exhausted.

"It's no problem, I can watch her," Meredith said smiling. "You want to watch the surgery, Kayla? You want to watch Mommy operate?"

Kayla smiled tiredly. "Operate," she repeated happily, proud in her small brand of consciousness for finding a non s-word. "Operate," Meredith confirmed, grinning. Cristina managed a weak smile, leaning down to kiss Kayla quickly on the head. "Okay, then, gotta go, munchkin. See you in about an hour, okay?"

Kayla nodded. "Operate. Bye-bye M-M-Mommy. Love you."

Cristina looked back over her shoulder; she smiled at Kayla from where she'd started to jog away. "I love you, too, Kayla. Try to get some sleep, you'll feel better."

Fifteen minutes later Meredith entered the Observation Deck with Kayla in tow, Meredith dragging a small blue blanket she had snatched from an on-call room. Meredith sat Kayla gently on the bench, covering her with the blanket. The viewing room was empty, and it was silent as the surgeons all entered the OR below. Kayla yawned, laying her warm head against Meredith as she snuggled under the blanket. Meredith smiled down at her, when the door suddenly swung open. Both girls looked up, and Meredith's jaw dropped, seeing Dr. Preston Burke enter the room, his head down and his face tired. He looked up when he noticed they were there, and forced a civilized grimace that illustrated his exhaustion. "Nice to see you again, Dr. Gre-"

He stopped, staring at the little girl.

"Hi," Kayla said. "I'm Kayla."

Burke stared with his breath caught, looking at the tiny child who was a splitting image of her father. Those eyes, that smile, that face...he stared down at her, and the name hit him like a fast wind in a tornado. _Kayla._ Kayla Kayla Kayla Kayla.

_No,_ he thought, taking in the hair so like Cristina's. It couldn't be.

Down in the OR below, Cristina looked up from her position next to the head of cardiothoracic just in time to see Preston Burke, staring down at the sight of their daughter.

A/N: So, obviously this is a rather different situation: Cristina's not guilty of anything! I think the story will have a lot more depth now, because we have the whole Burke-not-knowing-about-his-daughter (obviously), Burke-and-Cristina-with-some-unresolved-issues, as well as Burke feeling guilty about not being there for their daughter (and Cristina), and knowing that's, though unintentionally, his own fault.

Plus, there's the question of: What's Burke doing there?! Hmmm…


	2. Chapter 2

Make A Wish (new) 

Chapter 2

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_Kayla. Kayla Kayla Kayla Kayla._

This couldn't be happening. Burke stared down, his brain ready to explode, as Cristina stared up at them from the operating room, seemingly oblivious to the patient she was helping operate on. Burke paused, staring, then tried to smile weakly. "Hello, Kayla," he said hoarsely, looking down at the little girl. She beamed up at him, her eyes tired, as she snuggled closer to Meredith. Meredith continued to stare, her expression almost sick, as her mind took in the situation around her.

"_They."_

_Kayla. Kayla Kayla Kayla Kayla. _

"Dr. Yang? Are you feeling all right?" Down in the OR, Dr. Krulik looked at her with confusion, his eyes sliding over from where he'd been operating on the patient. "I—Yeah, I—I'm fine," Cristina stammered, her breath shaky. She pried her eyes away from the Gallery, staring down at the patient with her mouth open in pain, still shaking. Up in the Viewing Room, Meredith was still staring in awe at Dr. Burke, trying to piece everything back together.

"Are you—what are you doing here?"

Burke didn't seem to hear her; he was still staring down in shock at his daughter, slowly taking in everything about her. _Oh god. Oh, oh, my god._

"Dr.—Dr. Burke?"

_This is all my fault_.

"Dr. Burke?"

His head snapped up, he stared at Meredith frowning, his mouth gaping slightly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "What?" He managed.

"What are you doing here?"

Meredith, like Izzie, seemed to be getting over her shock, but her latter response was exactly the opposite.

"You just…_left_. No one knew where to contact you. You completely broke her. She's still not over it…she's trying her best to live, but it's not for herself, and it's just a shadow. She was ready to—" Meredith glanced down at Kayla. "M-A-R-R-Y-Y-O-U. She was happy. She was excited. She told me she was going to like being M-A-R-R-I-E-D. And you just _left_. She needed you!" She paused for breath, and Burke stared at her emotional outburst.

"And now you show up like it's nothing, not calling, not giving any warning. What are you trying to do to her? She left the same time you did, and I don't know if she'll be able to return as well in sync."

Burke felt Cristina's pain rather than Meredith's words strike through his heart, and he closed his eyes.

"What I'm doing here is between Cristina and myself."

Meredith laughed in disbelief. "You can't expect me to belief she knew you were coming!"

Burke's voice was quiet. "No. But that doesn't change the fact that it's _her_ I need to be speaking with." He looked down at Kayla, and what he'd regained of his breath slipped away again. "And I have a rather profound feeling that's it's even more than I'd thought. Cristina and I need—"

He stopped, shaking his head, apparently not able to go on as he stared down at Kayla.

"Um...This is Kayla. She's a little sick, she has the flu, I—" Meredith paused, staring up at Dr. Burke from the corner she'd literally backed herself into. "I'm not sure if I should be—"

With one swift moment, Burke sat down next to Kayla on the bench, looking down at the little girl. "Hi, Kayla," he said softly. "Hi," she said back, smiling brightly, a small flash of white glinting for a second under the harsh hospital lighting. "You are a doctor too?"

"Yes," Burke said, then cleared his throat weakly. "I'm a heart doctor."

Kayla sat up, beaming with happiness at Dr. Burke. "Like M-M-Mommy. Heart ish m-my _favorite!_"

Meredith stared at them, biting her bottom lip, hard. "I—I have to go to the bathroom. Would you mind—" She paused, trying to look pleadingly at Dr. Burke.

"Would you mind watching her for a few minutes?"

Burke stared at her in shock, and there was an odd sense of disorientation upon his face. "Sure. Of course," he stammered. Meredith stood up quickly, slipping some of the blanket off Kayla, and hurried out of the room, the door banging behind her.

Burke looked down at Kayla, who, in the absence of Meredith, had laid her head against Burke's shoulder instead. "So...Kayla," he said. He tried to think of something to ask to relieve himself, to reassure his mind that everything had not just changed forever, and he was not staring down at what could easily be the rest of his life. "Is your mommy's name—" He paused, not being able to say the word out loud again. He had not said her name in almost three years; he had heard the word almost continuously in his thoughts, but the actual sound of it when he'd murmured it so matter-of-factly to her friends and colleagues, the actual decibels pushing their way into his ears...

"M-my mommy ith Crishtina," Kayla said carefully, tugging slowly at the blanket as she sunk her head further into Burke's shoulder. He looked down at her and hesitantly placed his arm lightly around her shoulder, pulling her closer. Kayla yawned tiredly. "What about your daddy?" Burke asked softly, and as he spoke the breath seemed to leave him in one large gasp.

Kayla stiffened slightly under his arm, stirring. "No know Daddy. Not is here."

Burke stared down at her, his whole body shaking.

"Has your mommy told you about him?" He murmured inquiringly.

Kayla sat silently for a few moments, concentrating on her words. "M-Mommy? Thay he loveth me. M-mommy tell nice," she said finally.

"She's right," Burke responded, touching her hand. "He loves you more than anything."

"Not ith here," she repeated after a moment, furrowing her tiny brows.

Burke bent down quickly, kissing Kayla's head. Kayla looked up at him, slightly confused, but Burke answered with a simple statement. "I'm sorry you're sick."

Kayla shrugged nonchalantly. "Be good early." She yawned again. "I sleep? M-m-my head feelth foggy."

Burke nodded, murmuring quietly, and slowly brought up the blanket so it was covering her whole body, except for her head, which she continued to lay against him. She had just started to close her eyes, when she stopped, pulling away, confused. Burke looked down at her.

"Thpot," Kayla said, pointing. Burke frowned slightly, glancing down at the top of his arm at his birthmark, showing from the tip of his sleeve. "Yes," he said slowly.

"Have thpot too," Kayla explained, turning to show him hers. "Arm."

Burke stared, his face crinkled in a frown, his mind slowly whirring. "I guess you do," he said quietly. He forced a smile, hugging Kayla closer to him, then rubbed her hair softly. "It's okay, Kayla," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

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Disclaimer: Shonda can have her Grey's Anatomy, obviously she doesn't want Isaiah too much though, in which case the character he brought to life is, for the course of this story, MINE. Go ahead. Sue me. You'll need some extra cash to pay the repugnant salaries of Ho and Mo.

BTW: I know it looks mildly (cough) annoying on the page, but Kayla's lisp is cute. I promise. And her stutter is _only_ for 'm's, and I have a feeling it'll go away in a few more chapters (ooh, must be psychic!) I like her lisp, though. She's going to have it (exceedingly less and less, obviously) for a while. Give the child a break, all right? If I get another PM from the girl who had a 'pet peeve' about writing out baby talk, I'm going to smack something, most likely my computer (uh oh). First I got yelled at for having her use sentences, then I got snapped for having her talk like a real toddler. Listen, don't rag on a two-year-old's speech, aiight? I shall chalk it up to you all just being cranky from Bang withdrawal/mourning. Fine. Chill. Try to enjoy the story, OK? _Por__ favor y gracias._


	3. Chapter 3

Make a Wish (new) 

Chapter 3

_by GreyEyesGlaringAtShonda_

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Cristina raced the hallway of Seattle Grace Hospital, trying to steady her breath as she fought back tears and the instinct to turn back towards his voice. He was yelling her name in that old frustrated way she'd heard him use a thousand times, and the sound of his desperate voice collided with the slap of their shoes against tile and her own struggling gasps of emotion.

She wasn't a hundred percent sure why she was running. She just knew she couldn't deal with this.

His hand was inches away from grasping her arm when she turned into the on-call room and moved to lock the door, knowing as she struggled with the knob that she was too late.

She jumped back as the door swung open, staring at the floor and hearing her caught sob betray her.

"What, what are you doing here, what do you want—" Her words jumbled out and slurred together, incomprehensible to anyone but the two people in the room.

He was grabbing her arms and pulling her closer, tightening his grip as she attempted to pull herself away, closing her eyes in response to the deafening sound of her mind's screams.

"I am so sorry."

Three years of craving his presence while losing her own, and all he had to say was that he was sorry.

"Don't touch me." Her eyes were glistening, but her voice was cold and raw.

"I am so sorry."

If he cried, she was going to leave.

"Cristina—"

"Don't say my name. If you want to know about her, there are about three dozen letters telling you all about her laying in sealed, unaddressed envelopes in my apartment. I didn't want you to not have her, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. You completely disappeared. You didn't tell anyone where you were going or keep in touch with anyone in Seattle. Your parents' contact information was in the address book you took with you, and they weren't listed. You ripped yourself away from me, and in doing so you sealed your own fate. If you want to know about her, read the letters. If you want visitation or joint custody, fine. But that's it for us. Write me a letter with your address if you want her life story. Unlike you, I'm reachable."

By this time her voice was shaking uncontrollably, and he looked at her in anguish. Watching her break, he moved instinctively to hold her, flinching at her gasps.

He reached to touch her, whispering.

"_I am so sorry."_

"SHUT UP!" She screamed, backing away from him.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" Her face was contorted, but she seemed determined not to cry. She was clawing her nails into her arms, hugging herself as she stared, shuddering, at the ground.

His eyes were on her.

"To know how to fix this." He spoke in that quiet voice she'd been sure she'd never hear again.

"You managed to get a child out of this. Be happy with that."

"I am ecstatic with that."

She was silent, gazing blankly at the floor.

"Cristina." He prodded.

"Why are you here?" She murmured.

His voice was just as soft. "I am in love with you. I'm tired of trying to live without you."

Her voice was harsh, cutting across him. "Do you think you could just come back? And what, we'd pick up where we left off? Do you think I'm just going to let myself love you again?"

He watched as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"You shouldn't have left," she whispered.

For a moment, he closed his eyes too. "I know that."

They were both silent, except for the soothing sounds of their breaths trying to steady themselves.

"Cristina."

She sat on the lower bunk of the bed, blinking at the carpet. He moved closer, sitting a ways away from her, knowing to put any area of his skin upon hers would push her over the edge.

He could smell her.

It wasn't some overbearing perfume or shampoo. She'd been in a complicated surgery, it was nearing the middle of the night, and she was exhausted. She didn't smell like some random woman. She just smelled like Cristina. He breathed deeply. His foot moved purposefully, steadily until the tips of their shoes were touching.

He sighed in content.

"Jane," she said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"It's her middle name."

He was quiet, absorbing this.

"I know. 'Jane Yang' sounds awful. But she couldn't have your name. She wouldn't understand…

"I thought she should have something of her father's, though. So her middle name's Jane."

He listened to the sound of his own heartbeat, amazed it could pump on its own again.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." It was automatic. She'd become a lot more polite since Kayla had begun to speak.

His breathing was becoming more regular. She was still staring at the carpet. He gazed at her face, drowning in his own heartache.

"She's very beautiful."

Cristina nodded slightly.

"And she has her mother's hair."

She didn't respond. He hated himself for what he was doing to her.

"She looked good. You've taken very good care of her."

She stood up, and he buried his face in his hands. Her head was hung low as she strode across the room and closed the door behind her.

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She stared down at the tender face, which was so familiar to her. His eyes were closed, but she knew what they must look like. Her tiny fingers drifted down to brush against his cheek. His eyes fluttered open.

"Hi."

Burke sat up, looking first into the face of Cristina, who remained determinedly gazing at the ground; then let his eyes wander over to his daughter.

"Hello, Kayla." He smiled at her soft expression on the baby face, letting his lips form her name once more in silence.

"When I'm at osp-eat-all, I shleep here," she said simply.

Burke scooted over on the bed. "I am so sorry. Would you like to share?"

Kayla looked up at Cristina uncertainly.

"At osh-pea-tall I thleep—" She broke off, working on the words in her small mind. "At osh-pea-tall I thleep wif M-Mommy or Aunt M-M-Merry."

"It's okay," Cristina said softly from behind her. "He's very nice."

Kayla took her mother's hand carefully, looking at Burke raptly.

"I need M-M-Mommy."

He gazed up at Cristina intently. "There's enough room for all of us."

Cristina bent down next to Kayla, speaking quietly to her.

"Can Mommy sleep on the top bunk?"

Kayla hesitated. "OK.

"I thleep now."

Cristina lifted her daughter up, and set her down next to her father. Bending down to kiss her cheek, her forehead brushed Burke's. She stood up hastily, and her eyes met Burke's for the first time; she ripped them away immediately.

"G'night," she said, after a pause.

"Good night."


	4. Chapter 4

Make a Wish (new) 

Chapter 4

_by GreyEyesGlaringAtShonda_

A/n: _Muchas gracias_ to all the nice reviews I've been getting, **F;** **BangFan; SLEEPWALKER: **I'm glad you're breathing!**; nikkitan89; VMsuperfan; iNt0 the fIre; ilubga; Murgy31; PJS1014; msugurly09:** Thank you so much for your PM! and the rest. And to the people who felt the need to tell me Isaiah is homophobic and all that…the irony is killing me, because obviously _you're_ the ones who are ignorant. I would not be supporting him if he were a bigot, plain and simple. Feel free to PM me if you want to hear all the reasons why I'm on his side; however, only do this if you have an open mind (that's O-P-E-N, not E-M-P-T-Y); if you only want to insult him and me, don't waste your time, I'm not going to respond, and you're not going to make me feel guilty because you're WRONG. And stupid.

On to the story, _per__favore__ e grazie._

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_Preston, _

_Your daughter spoke today. She's incredibly advanced for her age; most kids don't start babbling an actual (real) word until somewhere between their sixth and twelfth months. _

_She said 'you.' I was playing with her and talking to her, and she was laughing and then she said it. It was great. She's really smart._

_I just thought you'd want to know. I can imagine you making a big deal out of it._

_I didn't start talking until I was around two (but then it was in sentences). She must have gotten this from you._

_She's been giggling a lot lately. Her favorite toys are a cloth book I bought her (I started reading to her a couple of weeks ago, but she can't have paper books, she'd either chew on them and get sick or cut herself on the paper), and a pink rattle. And Patches, of course._

_I still play Eugene Foote for her every night before she goes to sleep._

_She's getting really big, you'd go crazy if you saw her. _

_She looks exactly like you._

_--Cristina _

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"Who's Patches?"

Cristina didn't look up from her Sudoku handheld. "Bear."

Burke smiled. "What color is he?"

"An assortment. Do you think we'd name a brown teddy bear 'Patches'?"

Burke was silent.

"Why did you call me 'Preston'?"

Cristina didn't respond.

"Do you still play Eugene Foote for her?"

Cristina shrugged, concentrating on her game. "Sometimes."

"What kind of books do you read her?"

"Steinbeck. And Proust, occasionally," Cristina said, rolling her eyes.

Burke frowned. "I'm trying to learn about my child. Would just an ounce of compassion be simply too much to ask for?"

Cristina moved her eyes from the screen of the device, gazing at the shining surface of the wooden table at which she was seated. "Okay, seriously? Are you really going to start lecturing to me about _compassion_?"

Burke pressed on. "If you want to talk about us, fine. However, I think you've made it clear that you have no interest in that whatsoever. When you're ready, let me know, but until then, I'm not in the mood to put up with your acerbic behavior. What's her favorite color?"

Cristina put down the Sudoku, raising her eyebrows. "Not in the _mood_?"

She stood up. "All the details are there. Now, while _you're_ trying to locate the date of your daughter's birth, _I'm_ going to go take care of her."

"She's sleeping!" Burke exclaimed, looking towards the open door to his bedroom, where Kayla was curled up on his bed.

"Oh, really?" Cristina smirked, as a small figure appeared in the doorway.

"Potty," Kayla said quietly, looking at her parents inquisitively.

"Come on, Sweetie. I'll show you where it is," Burke said, smiling warmly at her and standing up.

"You have to help her. She can't reach the doorknob," Cristina informed him absently, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulling it out.

She swore under her breath as she gazed at the caller ID, before sliding her eyes over to check the time.

She sent a quick text message to Meredith, then shoved it back into her pocket and resumed her Sudoku puzzle.

Burke reemerged a few minutes later, with Kayla clutching tightly his hand.

"Don't you have to be at work?" He asked casually.

Cristina grimaced at her game, before shrugging nonchalantly. "I guess I'll have to call in sick. She has the flu, she can't go to daycare."

Burke nodded, examining her as he took his seat at the table, hoisting Kayla onto his lap and pulling the next letter from the overflowing box towards him.

"Go. I'll take care of her."

Cristina looked at him, hesitating.

Burke paused.

"Don't you trust me?"

There was a long, painful silence during which Burke seemed to severely regret his words.

"I…" Burke swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry, Cristina."

Cristina jerked instinctively, standing and walking around the table towards them.

Cristina knelt down so she was at face-level, and spoke quietly to their daughter. "Hey, munchkin. Feeling better?"

Kayla shook her head. Cristina tightened her lips in understanding, nodding sympathetically. "I'm sorry. Listen, Mom has to go to work, and you shouldn't really go to Vella's while you're sick. Would you mind staying with Da—" Her speech broke off, and she took a deep breath. Cristina risked a glance towards Burke, and hesitated. "With Dr. Burke, for today?"

Kayla looked up at Burke, inspecting him.

"OK."

Cristina smiled. "OK. I'll try to be home early, and I'll call you at lunch, alright?"

Kayla nodded, pushing her thumb into her mouth. Cristina reached for her other hand and squeezed it. "Be good, munchkin." She straightened up a few inches, so she was instead level with Burke, but chose then to focus her gaze on Burke's forehead rather than eyes.

"I'll be in surgery for the next couple hours, but I want you to _call me_ if she has any trouble." Cristina interrupted. "I'm sure she's going to be pretty tired today, so you don't have to worry about chasing after her, but she'll still be a handful. She's always really fussy when she's sick, but you should be able to relate—"

"Excuse me?" Burke interjected, clearing his throat.

Cristina regarded him with a look of distaste. "Oh, don't look at me like that, _**I-asked-for-a-cup-not-a-mug**_." Burke raised an eyebrow in response; Cristina ignored him, continuing. "If you give her anything for her stomach, make sure it's not cherry-flavored. It will make her worse, and she will puke it up all over you. She _only_ likes grape. She's allowed to watch TV for a few hours a day if she feels like it, but none of that Sesame Street junk." She lowered her voice to a whisper; Burke leaned closer to hear at the same instant she bent slightly to murmur in his ear. "I think the puppets scare her." Burke smiled to himself, gazing at the gleaming white tile floor and listening intently.

"Seriously, call me if anything comes up," she reiterated, straightening up. She kissed two of her fingers and placed them on Kayla's forehead. "Bye, kiddo. Love ya." She turned and walked in the direction of the door, grabbing her jacket from where she'd dumped it a couple of hours before, only vaguely aware that Burke had followed her, their daughter held securely at his hip.

"What?" She asked, turning around at the entrance to the apartment.

Burke looked mildly uncomfortable, and although there was a shadow of anger within his eyes, not a trace of it could be found in his voice. "We need…to tell her." He turned his head to look at Kayla. "She needs to know."

Cristina sighed, her hand halting halfway on its pocket-bound journey for her keys. "We'll tell her," she told him, her voice softening slightly.

His expression was disbelieving, and she sighed once again, more heavily this time. "Look, we'll do it tonight, okay?"

"I'm not '_Dr. Burke_' to her!" Burke exclaimed, bristling. Cristina fought to refrain from rolling her eyes, and instead let out a large breath of frustration.

"I know," she said, cutting his next few words off before they could begin. She looked away from him, choosing her words cautiously. "Burke, just listen. She needs to hear it from me, and I _can't_ tell her right now if I'm going to get to work on time; I have to go, we'll talk to her tonight. OK?" She looked carefully at Burke, uneasy at what she saw when she finally focused in on his eyes. "Burke, I'm serious!" She turned to leave, looking back at them over her shoulder. "_Don't_ tell her, Burke," she said warningly. "She'll freak out; I'm telling you."

"Right. Of course." Burke shrugged slightly in agreement. Cristina bit her lip, shaking at her inability to tear herself away from his eyes.

"I'll take care of it," she assured him, her voice quiet.

"Just promise you'll let me do this," she said softly. She met his eyes readily for this, and it was that which caused him to succumb.

"Fine. Of course. I promise," he murmured.

She continued to watch him for a moment after he'd answered, before she nodded, very slightly. Her voice carried through as their eye contact was finally broken by the closing door behind her. "Just…trust me."

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A/N: I realize this is a filler chapter and pretty boring; that's why it took me so long to write. The next few chapters will be better. There's going to be a kiss soon, and I'm going to try to make chapter five longer and more interesting. Have faith in BANG, readers. I'm not trying to burn anything down over here. I'm actually rather frightened of fire.

No guarantees, however, that the story won't get hot. It is still summer, is it not?


	5. Chapter 5

Make A Wish-new 

Chapter Five

By GreyEyesGlaringAtShonda

F/A/N (fan's author's note): Thanks again to all my great reviewers! I _love_ reading them, so I really appreciate you taking the time to write them. **VMsuperfan, Murgy31, msugurly09, trash090, nikkitan89, Iheartbang, BananaBear, interstellarflight, F.**: That's the best compliment I can get, so thank you**; alm0stperfect**: Thanks so much, I'm glad you love my stories and (of course) Kayla, and you get _extra_ points for spelling my name right, you'd be amazed how many people don't **merderdreamy5:** You get extra points too of course, for spreading the Isaiah love XD

I'll update this later with the rest of the reviews, I think I might have missed some.

The thing that drove her most crazy about Preston Burke was his unyielding ability to make her feel like a child.

The first few times Burke had done this, she'd chalked it up to him being her cocky superior, holding it over her head that she was the intern, while he, God.

After watching Burke interact, however, she'd realized he seemed to be particularly condescending and imperialistic with her. O'Malley exercised free reign over his loose tongue, whatever; he was still his Guy. Meredith forged his signature on test forms, no biggie; that warranted at least a dinner invitation.

Cristina freaked out over the loss of her eyebrows and wedding vows, and suddenly he wasn't the one who could make her happy anymore.

She was not a little kid, nor was she an idiot. She was a scientist, a _surgeon_, and a well-respected intellectual within the medical community. She was a person who rallied her thoughts around _facts_, around hard pieces of scientific evidence; things that were proved and/or provable.

**Fact:** She was supposed to be over him. He shouldn't have been able to have this effect on her anymore.

She kicked her foot lightly against the rail of the bottom bunk, fuming slightly to herself and falling deeper into her thoughts. A hypothesis was forming somewhere deep inside her brain.

Maybe. Maybe.

She exhaled loudly, blowing out of her face one of the many curls that always seemed to be getting in her way.

This was _ridiculous_. She had a child now. She couldn't allow herself to be tricked into succumbing to his mind games.

She pulled out the slip of paper upon which Burke had scrawled his home phone number for her that morning, and punched the digits determinedly into the phone. She was an adult, mature and responsible. Definitely not nervous in any way about a few seconds' conversation with an old flame. She'd just talk to Kayla for a few minutes, and then hang up. She held her breath at the sound of the ring.

"Hello?"

She let out the breath in one full swoop. His voice still had the power to give her chills all up and down her spine.

**Conclusions:**

1. Hypothesis was wrong. Nice try.

2. So much for mature and responsible.

"Burke? It's me. How is she?"

In an apartment about a mile away, Burke smiled. "Doing great. I got her some medicine, grape, and she had half a bowl of ice cream for her stomach about an hour ago." His smile widened slightly. "She likes her ice cream soft, only a _little_ bit melted, because it helps it go down easier…Except, she used the word 'gentle' instead of _soft_ or _smooth_, and 'dripping' instead of _melted_, because I suspect that she tries to avoid employing any such words which begin with 's' or 'm'. Her favorite flavor of ice cream is rocky road, and she will eat _only_ that, or a flavor called "Chocolate Chunk," but only if it comes from a certain brand that has a cartoon cow as its mascot, which, incidentally, is nearly impossible to find."

"It's called Ruthie's Request," Cristina said absently. "You have to go to the market on Goodwin Street, otherwise it pretty much _is_ impossible to find, at least in Seattle. Where is she now?"

"Sleeping. On my bed. I told her she could watch a movie when she gets home, she really wants to see it...The Princess Diaries?"

"It's her favorite," Cristina divulged, opting this time to tap her foot against the bottom bunk instead of kick it, as she ran a hand through her frantic hair, her body a restless mess of emotions. "…She's only watched it about a hundred and twenty-seven times."

Burke cleared his throat. "Mmm. She asked if I would watch it with her; she seems rather intent on making it one hundred and twenty-eight…I told her it was up to you, but that she could come over and watch it here if you said it was all right. And I went onto the computer and ordered a copy of it, it should be here tomorrow, so she can watch it whenever she wants to when she's here…"

Cristina paused, her hand halfway through her curls. "You **told** her! Burke, you _**did**_, didn't you?"

Burke glanced at his feet, his voice bordering on testy, before it succumbed into its natural silkiness. "Not yet. I want to. I've been sitting on the bed with her while she sleeps; I told her a story. I want to do something with her when she feels better; I could take you two out to dinner, somewhere really nice. She deserves to spend time with both of us. And I want to be a part of her life. She's my daughter. I want her to think of herself as my daughter."

Cristina hesitated. "We can work something out. Maybe you could have her...every other weekend, or something."

Burke frowned.

"You've had her for two and a half years. I want to see her every day. I want to **know** her favorite ice cream flavors, and where to get it; and I want to know her favorite movie and _just_ how many times she's seen it…I want to know her favorite color, and her favorite pair of pajamas, and what _brand_ of _shampoo_ she uses...I'm her father. I want to be her father. She's mine, too."

Cristina bit her lip, burying her head in her knees as she cradled herself on the bunk bed. "Don't yell at me."

"I'm not _yelling_."

"You are too. This isn't my _fault_. **You** left. I tried to contact you. I never wanted to keep you from her. If I seriously wanted that, do you really think I would have had her? It's not like I thought you were coming back, you made it pretty obvious. But I kept her, and I've raised her and took care of her and I have been there for her. She doesn't know you. Do you realize how confusing it would be for her to suddenly disrupt her entire routine, to alter everything she knows? I know you must be going through hell right now, but don't take it out on me. Hard as it may be to believe, you're not the only victim here."

Burke waited, hearing the emotion in her voice and yearning to comfort her.

"You're right. I apologize."

"Stop apologizing!"

Cristina stopped, looking towards the door to the on-call room in mild fear. They knew better than anyone did the importance of keeping their voices down within these thin walls.

Cristina spoke quietly. "Can you double-check and see if she's awake or not?"

He paused, taking a deep breath. "Cri—"

"Please?" She added.

Burke sighed, jadedly, and then moved gingerly towards his bedroom door to peer in at his bed.

"Baby? Are you awake? Mama's on the phone."

Kayla slept on. Burke brought the phone back to his ear.

"She's out. I'll tell her you called when she wakes up."

"Thank you," Cristina said politely. "Tell her I'll be home as soon as I can. Give her a hug for me, okay?"

"Okay," Burke responded, grinning broadly.

Cristina heard the grin in his voice and felt apprehensive, but was too tired to discern what might have caused it.

When he spoke again it was gone, and he sounded suddenly hesitant. "You never answered me."

Cristina bent one of her elbows over her leg, resting her head on her hand. "You didn't ask a question."

"Dinner. She's our daughter. We're a family. She deserves both parts."

Cristina dug her face deeper into her palm, before speaking again. "Maybe you should get to know her more first. On your own, I mean."

Burke was quiet for several minutes.

She rolled her eyes. What had he expected?

She heard him take a breath. "No," he murmured. "I mean, I want to be with you as much as her. I want to see you every day, too."

She moaned quietly to herself.

"Burke, I have to go."

"Cristina!" There was a dull tone coming from the dial.

Burke sighed, setting down the phone, and then rested his forehead in his hands, rubbing his throbbing temples gently.

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_Preston,_

_Your daughter is cunning. She refuses to give up her bottle. _

_She thinks she's cute, and I'm telling you, she knows _**exactly**_ what she's doing. Anytime I give her milk in a sippy cup, she lets it run straight down her chin, while she smirks at me with that fake little innocent smile you gave her. Meredith thought I was crazy until she saw it. I guess I shouldn't complain though; if anyone but me tries to give it to her, she spits it on them. _

_I am not spoiling her. She's naturally strong-willed._

_She also finally got her first tooth—a lower central incisor. Be glad you're missing it; she is __**not**__ taking it stoically. Abby O'Malley just started teething too (that kid is __huge__), and I have to tell you…ours is way cuter._

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She hoped this was a sign she way making progress.

Instead of feeling and acting like a child, she'd made her way up to adolescence. The very _beginning_ of adolescence: that awkward, uncertain stage that she'd only barely made it out of. She sat for a moment in her car, glaring in silence at the steering wheel, before grabbing her keys from the ignition and hopping out of the seat. She had a fleeting moment of hope as she closed the door with what was probably a bit more force than necessary, wondering if she'd passed into pure teen-dom, complete with bold defiance, melodrama, and snarky comments that did her name proud; before remembering that she was Cristina Yang…She had boldness and snark-titud to a T, and Meredith probably had enough melodrama for the entire hospital.

Nevertheless, she did her best to stomp through the parking lot, and by the time she'd got to the entrance, the eye-roll directed at the doorman as she made her way towards the elevator came effortlessly. If she couldn't fight it, she might as well embrace her immaturity while she waited for it to ride out.

She seriously needed to stop it with all the stupid metaphors. The immaturity was violating her. It was all a sign of too much toddler company and too little sleep. She needed to grow up.

She paused for a moment to collect herself, standing outside Burke's apartment door.

_Stop it. You are not a baby. George is a baby. That is why he is now wearing scrubs with cartoon characters on them, explaining to six-year-olds through a closed restroom door what it is they're supposed to be doing with the cup._

She turned the knob and pushed.

He was bent over the table; old cat-eye glasses perched upon his nose (the "sexy nerd glasses," to her, but only in her head) as he took in another one of the letters, eyebrow raised in a mixture of befuddlement and amusement.

"Hey," she said quietly.

He looked up.

"Cristina."

The name said it all. She closed her mouth in a tight little half-smile; she gave a tiny nod, opting to look at the table instead of at him, but discovered she was unable to bring herself to find out which of the several letters it was.

"You're earlier than I expected," he commented. "Did you have a good day?"

Cristina glanced at him, shoving her keys into her pocket haphazardly and walking past him.

"So where's Kayla?"

Burke stood, refolding her letter neatly with the sort of rapidness and fluidity she could only dream of.

"Relax," he instructed, smiling. He took a few steps towards her, as she continued to gaze down the hallway without acknowledging him.

"_Cristina_."

She froze, and then turned slowly, just a little, looking at him half over her shoulder.

"She fell back asleep, let her rest for a little while. Here. Take your coat off, I'll get it."

He reached for the shoulder of her jacket, very gently, and she shrugged it off quickly in order to hand it to him.

"Sit down, stay awhile." He suggested, raising his eyebrow once more. She turned back away, glancing towards the hallway.

_That's all very nice, Preston_, she thought to herself, _but just what am I supposed to __**do**__, alone, with _you_, for "awhile," while she's sleeping?_

She heard a door open and a muffled noise, then the sound of him shutting the closet door a moment later.

_We are not speaking. I am not speaking with you._

She'd decided it in the elevator. It was a win-win; or at least, the opposite of a lose-lose. Whenever they'd spoken it had led to a fight, and there was the additional challenge of her of having to think of words to string together that not only made sense, but also sounded acceptably calm and impassive. If he wanted to know about Kayla, there were the letters. There was absolutely no reason why she might need to speak with him. She could _talk_ to him in order to get information about Kayla, or to make arrangements for her, but she was _not_ going to **speak** with him.

_Do __**not**__ ask me about my day._

"So how—"

"Did she eat anything besides the ice cream?" Cristina interjected.

Burke hesitated a moment, but took the interruption in stride. "I tried to get her to eat some soup about an hour ago. She got down most of it, but she isn't holding anything yet. I've been trying to keep her hydrated, that seems to be easier for her to keep down, and I've been bringing her water when I go to sit with her. She'll sleep off and on; I'm not sure how much is normal for her, but I don't think it's been too bad; she got up and watched TV for half an hour, and I've told her some stories, and we've talked." His face was incandescent. "She's just so…vibrant, isn't she? She's so much like you."

Cristina turned fully this time, forgetting to avoid him and looking at him straight in the eyes. "Like _me_?"

Burke laughed, shrugging; so that she studied how his sweater shrugged with him, resting and flexing upon his shoulders. "You haven't _noticed?_ Cristina! She is exactly like you! She's unpredictable; and you never know what she'll say next, just that it'll be overwhelming, however that may be…and she has this sudden energy," he raised his hands, shaking his head bemusedly, "that pops out of nowhere, and then she has your laugh, loud and contagious and impossible not to react to. And she does that thing, she goes quiet, and that silence tells _so_ much about her mood, if you're watching her eyes. If she isn't looking at anything, she's uncomfortable; it was how she looked before she got sick, but before she _realized_ she was going to; it's when she's just tired and moody and uncertain." Burke spoke lightly, arranging the letter from the table neatly into a box, and proceeding to organize them as he continued, his voice matter-of-fact, no longer facing her directly as he talked. "If she's looking _at_ you, though, that direct, breathtaking gaze, you've hurt or scared her, or she's miserable; it's how she looked when I brought her the medicine, and when it reached the dangerous part in the story. It's exactly how you look at people when you feel that way, just so wholly, and unmistakable, and _affected_. Cristina, you are _exactly_ like—"

"Burke!"

She interrupted again, waiting as the laugh slowly left his face. He looked up at her, setting the letters carefully aside in the box.

"Cristina, I—"

"Don't," Cristina answered, her voice low now, dangerous. "Don't do this."

He inhaled deeply. "I was just…I didn't…mean anything, I—"

"_Don't_—" she repeated. "Don't say that. I was watching you. It was all over you. We can't do this. You can _only_ look happy about _her_. This is not happening."

"Cristina, I…" His voice was quiet.

"Don't. Don't say it. Because even more than _that_, I am _not_ going to have you lie to me. Just—_don't._"

He took another deep breath, steadying himself before he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't want to hear that. I just don't know what you want to hear, and I can't say **nothing**, I can't feel **nothing**—"

"_Burke_, you _**can't**_, I—" The words burst out frantic, the precise opposite of 'calm' and 'impassive,' but were cut off by a soft voice, and it caused them both to turned; Burke, his expression crumpling, but his eyes fierce, passionate; and Cristina, her face colored and her eyes almost glistening.

"MMMommy home," she said, smiling, letting her 'm' roll out for a moment to soften the stutter. She tried to run forward, gave it up, and merely grinned winningly as she dragged the pillow along behind her. "Yay. I amm…I don't wheel-lee feel good yet, but Daddy took care uh…Daddy helped."

Cristina and Burke both stared, Burke's mouth on the verge of twitching, just as Cristina turned to gaze at him.

"Are you serious?

"You promised me!"

Her voice rang out, leading Kayla to cringe, her thumb inserting itself into her mouth.

Cristina continued to stare at him for a few seconds, her look intense. He met it easily, moving closer; he was near enough to touch her now.

"Cristina, I didn't say anything, I swear to you—"

Her gaze had been steady until now, but she exhaled firmly, as her feverish words escaped. "Don't _lie_ to me!"

She swallowed, fighting for control.

"Cristina, I am n—"

"I should have known better," she interrupted, half to herself. "Preston Burke, promising, what could—"

"Cristina, I am _not_ lying to you, I did _not_ tell her anything; I trusted you to tell her, now it's your turn to trust me."

Cristina grimaced, not looking at him. Finally she looked up, finding his gaze. "It was for _her_," she exclaimed. "It wasn't for me, it was for…"

"Cristina, I _promise_ I didn't—"

"SHTOP!"

Their heads snapped to look at their daughter, tugging on her father's pant leg and pleading.

"M-M-Mommy, _pleathe_, thtop fighting!"

Cristina knelt down. "We're not fighting, Kayla, we just—"

Kayla shook her head, hugging the pillow tightly to her chest. "It duhthn't _m-mmattuh._

"Jutht _thtop_."

Cristina and Burke gazed steadily at each other for a moment, neither speaking.

"Okay, munchkin," Cristina relented, her voice quiet. "We'll stop."

A/N: I know, I suck. I'm sorry. I'm exhausted. I'm trying to write more, and I think I shall soon. It's just that, on _top_ of all my homework and studying (and that's something in itself), I've been having play practice for three hours a day, and it takes a _lot_ out of me. I'd have extracurricular activities (or be online) until about 4:00, then I'd have to get ready and head off for rehearsal to get there by 5:00. I get home at just after 8, usually, and I watch TV, finish my homework, and go to bed (_sometimes_). I can't really skip rehearsal, because I have sort of a big part (I'm the third biggest part, and the biggest female part). Also, it's not so bad, really, I actually like it a lot, it's just that it takes forever. BTW, we're doing _A Christmas Carol_ (a knockoff, naturally), and at least you can take comfort in that I've been inspired by it, and I'm going to do a Burke/Cristina version of it starting in the next week, which I think is going to be really cool. Even better, the play's almost over (it's on December 8 and 9), and once it's done I'll have a _lot_ more time to work on stuff. Sorry for my long, long absences, just know that I am still here and still all about the B/C, and the bubble is going strong; Burke and Cristina are happy and together and everything is lovely, ai'ight? It's alive (don't let the tragic death of my man AP get you down) and unfaltering. No worries. Keep the faith. There are many happy fics in the works, including this one, which will pick up soon.

Ohhh, and I almost forgot. If you happen to know my writing even a little, you probably know my name, which is Ruthi. Well, I'm actually going by my middle name now (my FIRST middle name, I have 2 of them because I'm named after 2 "Ruth"s), so if you can remember to call me _**Amanda**_ instead, I'd really appreciate it (I'm going to change it when I grow up, and my friends and my teachers have been calling me it almost all year, except for my senile Chem. teacher, God love him, who can barely remember his own name, much less ours. : P ). Anyway, just thought I'd mention it, thanks.

Keep reading, I'll try to update ASAP, kay? And if that happens to be awhile, _don't_ lose hope on the B/C scene, all right?

Leave reviews, and it'll be sooner:)


	6. Chapter 6

Make A Wish-new 

Chapter Six

By GreyEyesGlaringAtShonda

A/N: I managed to get an update up in a week, of which I am proud (shut up, all you show-off fanfic queens who update with 10 page chapters every single day :P). I hope you like it, this chapter just sort of spilled out, but I think it's good, in my hungry-from-dieting-for-the-play, _extremely_ sleep-deprived state. :P ; )

F/A/N (fan's author's note): Thanks so much to **KeyboardGirl** (have patience, they are on their way), **VMsuperfan**, **Kilikina1**, **msugurly09**, **Liz86000**, and **julz009** (I really appreciated the PM, it's so nice to get things like that, and I'm so glad you like the story:D ).

"Ask her."

"No."

"_Cristina_ Nicole Yang."

"Shut up, Burke!"

Burke pursed his lips, barely containing the playful nature amidst them. For her part, she tried not to look at them.

"I guess I wouldn't want to be proven wrong either," he threw out casually, pretending to focus on something just above and to the right of her head.

She spun around, her eyes locking on him for a moment, and he felt a delicious jolt go through his stomach. His lips twitched. He'd missed that look. As often as he'd focused on conjuring it up in the last couple of years, the mental image he'd obtained did absolutely no justice to the smooth flames illuminating from her eyes, or the careful way her features blended together to form one of her expressions, one of the many, that she reserved only for him. Granted, he supposed there were others in that category he preferred slightly to this one, but he was taking what he could get, and he was delirious from it.

"I am not wrong. You told her. You could never keep anything to yourself; _never_ trusted me to find my own time or rhythm with which to deal with things." She let out a frustrated sigh, her eyes blazing as she began to ring her hands. "God, you are such a _hypocrite_, Burke! You're a liar!"

Burke frowned at her, his eyebrows folding to frame the lids of his eyes. "I am not a liar."

"You _are_, you _promised_ me, doesn't that _bother_ you? It's _supposed_ to, you're _Burke_. You're a hypocrite…" She paused, shaking her head, holding up a hand to heed Burke's attempt to intervene, ignoring his quirk of an eyebrow. "You know what? I am not doing this. I am not having this conversation with you. This is not about…_any_ of that. Your personality attributes are your own business, you can do whatever you want, just do _not_ lie to me when it comes to Kayla, do _not_ screw around with—"

"Cristina!"

She kept her eyes closed, not able to visibly react to her name.

"When have I _'screwed around'_ with anything?"

Cristina didn't respond. Burke sighed.

"Just ask her." He said calmly. "I have no concrete explanation for why she called me what she did." With this, a small smile crept back upon his face, and he didn't bother to hide it. "I am telling you though, I did _not_ tell her. Am I thrilled that she did, ecstatic from hearing her say my name? Good God, Cristina, how do you expect me to hide that?"

She ignored him, pushing past his body so that they brushed softly, both feeling their breath catch; and then she was through, opening the door to Burke's bedroom and approaching the small child sitting up on the bed. Burke followed, closing the door behind him, sitting a few inches down from Cristina as if it were the most natural thing on earth, as if they sat down next to one another to address their baby daughter every other day.

"Hey munchkin?" Cristina said softly. "Can we talk?"

Kayla looked up, smiling broadly at her parents. "Uh-huh. We talk."

Burke smiled sweetly at his baby girl, taking one of her hands in his instinctively. His face glowed as he looked at her, and Cristina paused, nervous, as she accidentally grabbed hold of his expression, surveying it and floating haphazardly in it, unable to escape, like one of Kayla's tiny teddy bear-shaped cookies, drifting around in the milk.

"Kaylie," Burke said gently, "it's about what you said earlier. You called me something."

Kayla looked at him inquiringly, her head tilting cutely. "What, Daddy?"

Burke swallowed as Cristina flinched. He was acutely aware that this was not helping his case.

"That, Kayla. Why are you calling him that?" She wasn't ready to say the title, in any variation, aloud yet. She couldn't associate Burke as being something so close to her again. A daddy. She'd had a Daddy once, then occasionally a Dad. She hadn't been able to form the words, in association to someone's actual name, since that night by the side of the road, watching as the shard of glass sticking out of her father turned scarlet. Though she'd only admit it in a tiny subsection of her mind, she knew she'd come close, dangerously close, to thinking of Donald Burke as being a Daddy. And she knew, of course, that Burke was Kayla's father. But she didn't know how he could already be a Dad.

"Bee-cawse I want him to be."

Cristina took a deep breath, as Burke looked down at the sheets, smiling still, but now only to himself.

"So you realize he…really isn't? No one's told you he is?"

Next to her, Burke tensed. "Cristina," he interrupted. She ignored him.

"Cristina," he repeated, his voice firm. "It is one thing not to say anything. But you are _not_ going to tell her that. Not to prove a point, not for anything. Do not ever say that to her again. Do not ever _say_ that again."

She turned, almost unwillingly, and caught his eye. Their gazes bore into one another's.

"Okay," she said softly.

"But…" she continued to Kayla a moment later, her voice still quiet and gentle. "…No one's told you he is, right Kayla?"

Kayla shrugged, looking around, her attention wandering, as she answered. "Nobody told m-me. But I fink he is."

Cristina leaned closer. "Why, Kayla?"

The little girl turned to look at her, her expression clear. "M-mommy?"

Cristina looked into her eyes, and knew in an instant that she was losing.

"Yeah, munchkin," she said finally, answering the question her daughter hadn't needed to ask. "He is."

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"Hey. It feels like we haven't gotten to really talk in…damn, has it really been a week? Not since…" Callie's voice trailed off, unsure.

"…Burke got here," Cristina finished, pushing the phone to her ear.

"Yeah," Callie said, her voice suddenly soft. "How're you holding up?"

"We told her," Cristina said bluntly. "Kayla. About who he was."

Callie sat up, curling her legs up underneath her. "Seriously?"

"Oh, Cris," she sighed a minute later; the only person who got away with calling her 'Cris.' "How are _you_ holding up?"

Cristina paused, leaning across the couch to look through the doorway, seeing her daughter curled up on her father's lap, giggling.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Do you know how many single mothers would give up a limb to get an able, responsible, loving father for their kid?"

Callie rolled her eyes, tightening the drawstring on her sweatpants absently. "Cristina. This man left you. You loved him, and he left you. You've been raising his daughter completely alone, excluding the tremendous help your fabulous best friend has provided, and suddenly he shows up, completely unannounced, planning…what? To sweep you off your feet? Pick up where you left off? You can't expect me to believe he thought he would've came back to Seattle, knowing full well you're still here, and not want something big to happen between the two of you. How are you supposed to just keep on trucking, completely 'fine,' when you're suddenly overwhelmed by the very painful presence of the love of your life?"

It was a sign of how good of friends they had become that Cristina didn't just hang up. If anyone else tried to talk to her about Burke, much less their _feelings_ for each other, they would have been facing a wrath to make Old School Bailey-the-Nazi look like baby Tuck when he was taking a nap.

"I'm serious, Torres. I'm fine." Cristina responded.

"Uh-huh." Callie answered.

Cristina sighed, tilting her head to get a better view of Burke and Kayla, watching Burke's lips move to form the funny different voices she knew him to be employing, solely for his daughter's entertainment.

"Listen, I know you don't like to be pushed, so I'll shut up about it. But Cristina…if you need to talk, I'm here, OK? This is a big deal. You have the right to be upset, to talk about it. And not just complain and stuff, either. I haven't forgotten what you've done for me, you know. Now it's my turn to work the Friend of the Year card."

Cristina's gaze traveled to the floor, taking in the careful carpeting of Burke's apartment. She really should be getting some nurse to cover Callie's post-op notes or something. It was the least she could do.

"Thanks, Callie. I think I'm just going to play my Get Out of Jail Free Card for a while, though. Seriously. I need some…space. A few weeks to get out of this awkward…_mess_ I seem to have found my way into."

"_You_ didn't find your way into _anywhere_," Callie declared. "Are you sure about this, Cristina?"

Cristina managed a small smile. "Yeah."

Callie shrugged, aware that her friend couldn't see her. "If that's what you want. Just remember, the offer's always there, OK?"

Cristina nodded. "Yeah."

A large toddler suddenly came waddling into Callie's living room, jumping onto the sofa to sit next to its mother. "So is anything else up at _Chez_ Burke?"

Cristina watched as Kayla's eyes slowly closed, her head drifting towards her father's chest. "Aside from a drooling two-year-old? Absolutely nothing."

"That reminds me, is she feeling any better? Mer said you mentioned she was eating more."

Cristina shifted on the couch, curling deeper into the cushions. "Yeah, she's pretty much back to normal. She was running back and forth through Burke's apartment earlier, so I'm guessing she's somehow managing her stomach."

"That's great. Give her a hug for me, OK?"

"Sure," Cristina said easily. "Actually, come to think of it, I think it's about time to give her a kiss goodnight. Mind if I call you back?"

"Abby's already started making me her personal mattress. I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright?"

"Mmm. Night," Cristina stated, snapping off the phone.

"Talking to Grey?"

Cristina jumped, looking up towards from where Burke's deep voice had resonated, seeing his expression of polite interest mingling with the smile he always seemed to have plastered to his face over the past few days.

"Uh, Torres, actually."

"Oh really?" Burke inquired, genuinely interested. "I got the impression from your letters that you two had become good friends."

"Yeah, she's cool," Cristina commented, standing to her feet slowly, feeling a tingle when Burke reached out to steady her. "And Kayla likes hanging out with Abby, she gets to feel like the big kid for once, which is good for her. She doesn't get to show off her independence often when she's with other kids; she's usually the smallest."

Burke nodded knowingly, touching her sleeve ever-so-gently as he subconsciously guided her towards the kitchen.

"Is Kayla asleep already?"

"Soundly," he responded. "I gave her dinner before you got home, but I put off eating until you got here. Any preferences for dinner?"

Cristina shrugged, sinking into a seat at Burke's table, falling naturally back into the cycle of his chivalric chair holding for her, and not even paying it any attention. "Whatever you're having."

"Lasagna it is," Burke laughed. Cristina had to restrain herself from letting out a moan. She'd always hated lasagna, but Burke didn't make it like anything she'd ever tasted before. Any amount of meals exceeding three without sampling Burke's cooking had, in the last several months of their relationship, been like going three days without surgery. It just shouldn't be done. Already she'd had to struggle to keep her face neutral when experiencing his cuisine once more.

"Sounds fine," she said casually. Burke grinned, not falling for it for a second, and Cristina managed an eye-roll without too much difficulty. Cocky, multi-talented Burke, her once-again dinner companion.

"So have you given any more thought to that dinner?" Burke inquired, opening a cupboard, his head turned towards her slightly.

"Uh, yeah, we've just been talking about it," Cristina replied, her head now in her hands as her fingers combed through her messy waves. He smiled tightly.

"No. The dinner I mentioned before. You, Kayla, and I. A family. I think she would enjoy it. She'll be more than fine by this weekend, I could make reservations—"

"Burke, I don't think that's the best idea," she interrupted. Burke turned his body, now inspecting her openly.

"Why?" He asked bluntly.

"Because," she explained, using the contemplative, matter-of-fact voice that she knew would drive him up the wall just as much as he was driving her, "we are _not_ a family. She's our daughter, but we aren't a family. I want to get along, to give her the best life possible, but we are not a family. You had your chance. You threw this away."

It was Burke now gazing at the floor, his eyes counting the tile upon the kitchen floor. She felt a mild twinge of guilt as she watched him pull out his glasses and start cleaning them, then hated herself for it.

"I never meant to hurt you. You have to understand that. I loved you more than anything in the entire world. You were meant for me. You _are_ meant for me. I won't believe you don't still feel this."

Cristina was silent, ignoring him; her eyes glued shut to keep herself together, inside, protected and complete. He was not going to shatter her again.

"I know how happy we would have been. I know what I could have given you, what I _wanted_ to give you. I thought I was giving you what you needed. I…" His voice broke, his eyes wet. "I was so scared I wouldn't be able to make you happy, Cristina."

"So you decided to not even _try_?" She demanded. His breathing hollowed, and he couldn't meet her gaze.

"I just loved you so much," he murmured. "I didn't know what to do with all of it. I love you so much, Cristina. You are…my heart, and my soul; my _very_ best friend. I came back because I needed you, and I prayed to God you still wanted me. I hoped you didn't need me, because I knew if you did, I could never forgive myself. But so much, I wanted you to want me. I still love you, Cristina. I don't want there to be any doubt about that, because there is no doubt here, nothing but _overwhelming_ desire, and pain, and regret. I love you, Cristina."

"I don't think I can do this," Cristina muttered. "I don't think I can do this to myself again. I won't make it. I barely made it before. I can't lose this again. I can't lose it." Her voice was quiet, sweet, directed primarily to herself. Burke stepped closer to her, leaning in front of her, and as if she could sense it, sense the intimacy of his pose, she cringed, withdrawing into herself, wanting to be stripped from him and engulfed by him at the same time.

"Cristina, I promise I will never hurt you again. I promise I will never stop trying. If you can't yet, it just means I'll have the opportunity to prove it to you. I'm never going to stop trying. I am going to spend the rest of my life with you, and I am never going to let you doubt anything again."

Cristina didn't raise her eyes, didn't even open them. He could sense, even through her closed lids, the emotion and uncertainty he knew to be circulating in them. And when she finally did open them, the love inside them principally seemed to take his breath away, but only for a moment, as he realized the message within them, and obliged, leaning forward, setting his hands upon her face, palming her jaw and rubbing her soft cheeks with his long fingers, and then bringing his own face closer, closer, to hers. When their lips touched she felt something inside her break, like a dam, or a balloon, filling and filling with noxious gas until finally it popped, damaged but still existent, surrounded by and available to clean oxygen. Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer, and when they finally pulled apart, many, many minutes later, her lips were gleaming red, and chapped, and his hands couldn't separate themselves from her skin, as they simultaneously pulled each other in for another, kissing until they were ready to fall asleep in each other's arms.

A/N:D. I feel happy right now. That wasn't planned, I just winged it, and I believe I'm a fan (yes, I'm also quite tired, as it's 4:00 even in the morning). Did you like? I hope so, I personally thought it wasn't too bad at all, it had angst and drama and all that, and, _duh_, it ended with Burke and Cristina kissing. Heck yes! (Napoleon moment, beg your pardon.) Now, I'm going to promptly save this and turn my computer off, in order to get some lovely, much-needed sleep. I will write more ASAP (I updated relatively fast this time, didn't I? Ay, I just jinxed myself). Hit that adorable little button and leave a review, and you just might get an update fast nevertheless. : )


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